


Apolysis

by cadfael256



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel and Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Coming Out, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), M/M, Post-Canon, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Unbeta'd, gay author, gay male author, mlm author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26459530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadfael256/pseuds/cadfael256
Summary: With the final apocalypse averted, the next great challenge left to the Winchester family is figuring out what the hell comes next—and what anxieties they’ll need to shed in order to move forward.
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 18





	1. Hypocrisis

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on AO3 and the first piece of fiction I’ve published in 7 years, so this is definitely rough and I welcome feedback.

Dean was out of excuses not to sort out his baggage. With Chuck, Amara, and the Shadow sealed in their respective prisons, the Gates of Heaven and Hell closed, and the monsters of the world banished to eternally brawl in Purgatory, hunting was reduced to salting and burning the occasional spirit. Hunters were having to look for other things with which to occupy their time, and for Dean that meant a lot of time locked in his room, staring at his ceiling, chewing on questions he never thought he’d have the need or chance to puzzle out. At the forefront of his mind was the most simple and yet most difficult question: What next?

He’d decided years ago that the apple pie life was out of the cards for him. No matter how many apocalypses he averted, he knew this life would never fully let him go. And as complete of a win as they’d had, he knew he wanted to keep saving people regardless. A larger proportion of simple salt-and-burns and a smaller total amount of cases overall shouldn’t change much in the way of Dean’s life.

Except it did. First and foremost, as always, was Sam. Dean knew that this was Sam’s out, his chance to get the kind of life he’d always really wanted—a life that, as much as Dean didn’t want to admit it, he’d wanted for Sam, too. After all this time and suffering, Sam of all people deserved to be happy. He’d started seeing Eileen again recently, inviting her over for movie nights and _brunch_ (they had _brunch_ now)! Dean knew it was only a matter of time before Sam came forward about plans to move out, find a new job, or maybe even go back to law school if he really wanted to. And as much as it would hurt, Dean wasn’t planning on stopping him.

Then, of course, there was Jack. It had been thanks to Jack that their plan had come to fruition, and now that his great task of bringing about a better world had pretty much been accomplished, it seemed like all there was left for him was to live the closest thing a being like him could have to a normal life. These days Jack had taken to spending hours in the library or on his computer, soaking up as much information on human culture and history as he could. He wouldn’t explain why, but Dean was quick enough to figure he was probably thinking about going to school, maybe make some friends roughly his ( _apparent_ ) age, and from there figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He wouldn’t go far, Dean knew that. Since regaining his soul he’d made great efforts to show how much his family mattered to him, most notably in using up all his grace in the spell to bind Chuck and Amara, partially satisfying the Empty’s deal with Cass.

Cass. It was Cass that Dean was most uncertain about. Wasn’t it always? Dean suspected Cass would want to stay wherever Jack was, like the dutiful father he’d come to be. But what would Cass do with himself, with Heaven now sealed and his own grace slowly depleting—it was the slow siphoning off of Cass’ grace to complete the seal of Heaven’s gate that was the final piece of satisfying the Empty’s deal. Dean knew it was causing him real pain, ever more physical the more human he became, but Cass had readily made the sacrifice to keep the gate of his former home closed. And that was just it—even though Cass had long ceased seeing Heaven as his home, this was a tangibly final turning away from angelhood. Dean wondered if Cass intended to find some kind of banal human job, like he had at the Gas N’ Sip all those years ago. It wasn’t like he’d need to earn a significant income to support himself and Jack, as Dean for his part had every intention of continuing to use his dubiously-obtained assets to take care of Jack, but Dean thought Cass might want something to do with his newfound time. Dean wondered if there was any chance he’d want—

 _Nah_ , Dean thought. _Cass prolly wants out just as much as Sam._ Lately Cass had taken to wandering aimlessly around the bunker, cataloguing items, reading alongside Jack in the library, and calmly chatting with Sam about Dean-knew-not-what in the kitchen. Maybe there _was_ a chance he’d want to keep hunting. _Guess I won’t know unless I ask..._

Dean was met again by the tidal wave of unfamiliar questions about himself that he’d had deftly tucked away in a categorized mental folder of “Not Applicable at this Time,” questions someone like him didn’t have time to answer — questions like “Should I finally deal with all this emotional repression people keep calling me out on?”; “What experiences have I missed out on?”; and, most crippling, “What parts of myself have I forced myself to ignore?”

Dean had suspected for a long time that the people closest to him could see right through his façade of hypermasculinity and bravado, a façade he’d even allowed himself to let crack ever so slowly as he let people into his life. But that didn’t change the decades of attempting to fill the role John had put on him, and all that that role entailed and implied. Emotional repression was definitely a part of it, but more entrenched than that was the archetypal persona that even Dean knew at this point was well beyond outdated. Chipping away at that vision of himself was the most frightening personal endeavors Dean could imagine, one he’d dreaded and had been reassured he’d never need to face, because of course there would always be some new crisis to avert, some new end of the world to put a stop to. But now there wasn’t, and he needed to reckon with the fear of what was behind the mask, the parts of himself that he’d hidden away even from himself, that seldom had a chance to shine through.

That’s what Dean was doing now, staring at the ceiling, mulling through memories, cringing at his almost _rehearsed_ interactions, his outward deflections and self-directed excuses. He was certainly aware, even in the very moments he was remembering, what exactly he was keeping himself from acknowledging, but he’d always had (or at least used) the excuse of his messed up life to stop himself from dwelling on it long enough to parse what it really meant. Now supplied with all the time in the world to sit with these thoughts, he was starting to piece together the parts of himself he’d ignored for decades, and in so doing, he was grasping at the beginnings of an understanding of what he might want from his life moving forward.

What Dean _had_ managed to puzzle out for certain was that he wanted to do better. He wanted to leave his callousness and his cowardly fear of communicating his emotions in the past. He’d gone up against Heaven, Hell, and everything in between, so hiding from feelings was inexcusable at this point. If it meant more chick-flick moments to come, he’d have to brave them like he’d done everything else. He at least owed his family that much.

It was late afternoon in the bunker, and Dean knew Sam and Jack would probably be wondering about food soon. Dean closed the door of his room behind him and made his way to the kitchen. Dean wondered if Cass has started to feel hunger yet. He’d save the juiciest burger for him just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the first chapter! Chapter 2 has some actual spoken dialogue so you’ll have that at least to look forward to.


	2. Atychiphobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The latter half of September was pretty hectic, so thank you for waiting patiently for Chapter 2!

“Good night, Jack,” Sam called out from his seat as Jack departed for bed.

“I should probably get some sleep as well,” Castiel said matter-of-factly. “I’ve noticed myself feeling more tired recently.” He paused, probably noticing the same silent worry Sam saw on Dean’s face. “Thank you for dinner, Dean. It was amazing as always.”

“No problem, Cass,” Dean said evenly before taking another sip of his beer. He smiled at the back of Cass’ head as the angel made his exit. Sam couldn’t help but notice Dean’s gaze lingering wistfully at the empty corridor at the rooms entrance, nor could he ignore the extra long swig of beer Dean took when he finally turned his head to face blankly at the other end of the table across from him.

There were a few minutes of stillness in the room as Sam took another few sips of his own beer. He’d come to enjoy the family dinners the four of them occasionally found time for over the last couple years, but he absolutely cherished these silent moments with Dean afterwards, moments that reminded him of the simpler times when it was just him and Dean on the road, pausing some nights just to look in silence at the stars. With all the apocalypses, and with the growth of their family, these moments with just him and his brother had become pretty rare, and they’d probably become rarer still when he finally worked up the courage to tell Dean he wanted to take the next step with Eileen and move out of the bunker. He knew it would hurt Dean if—no, _when_ he left again; even 18 years after leaving for college, Sam still felt the lingering guilt, and it had only been so recently that they’d finally gotten Jack back from a second death. Sam dreaded feeling responsible for splitting their family apart again.

So Sam had kept silent, still waiting until he figured out the best way to tell Dean about his plans. He had been in this for too long—there were no two ways about it. He had to leave soon, to get the life he’d always wanted, or he (or Dean, or _destiny_ ) would find some way to keep him in this endless carrousel. He knew Dean still planned on hunting what few things still went bump in the night. Sam would be surprised if Dean had even a glimmer of some kind of apple-pie-adjacent lifestyle in his sight.

It was in the middle of that thought that Dean broke the silence.

“You remember Cesar and Jesse?”

Sam smiled, imagining the husbands slowly corralling horses on their ranch in New Mexico. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“I’ve been wondering...” And Sam was sure Dean _had_ been, considering how much time he’d been spending locked away in his room lately. “Do you think they ever miss it? Hunting, I mean.”

Sam shrugged wordlessly, not sure where Dean was going.

“I mean, I’m glad they were able to get their happy ending. I just, I don’t know if I can picture myself ever being _done_ , y’know? And they had a good thing going, too, when they were still hunting. They were real _partners_ —” Dean forced a chuckle, “Well, they were partners in a lot of senses, I guess.”

If Sam was hesitant to tell Dean before about his plans to leave, now he was mortified. Dean planned on staying in the life, and it seemed like he was implying he wanted Sam to stick around for it too.

“I think— if I’m gonna keep this up, I want a partner I can rely on like that.”

And there it was. Sam thought about interrupting, despite having no possible coherent response, when Dean continued in what Sam thought was an oddly measured tone for his brother.

“I want… I want someone like they had in each other, who they could trust on the job and at home… someone who means— who’s family.” Dean paused. Sam inhaled sharply. “Which is why I’m gonna ask—”

“Dean, stop.” Dean’s face instantly morphed into one of confusion. “I’ve gotta tell you something important.”

“I’m trying to tell you something important, too, Sammy.”

“Dean I—I’ve been holding off on telling you this because I didn’t wanna disappoint you again but… I’m leaving. Eileen is done with hunting and I am, too. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now and I think I wanna, y’know… build something with her.” He took a deep breath. Dean’s face was unreadable. “I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanna hear, but after everything we’ve accomplished I finally see a real way out and—”

“I know, Sam.” Dean’s expression had softened.

“Wait, what?” Sam was incredulous.

“I figured you wanted out after everything a while ago. We beat God! And I’m proud of you, Sammy. You stuck by me through every apocalypse. You more than deserve to have a normal life.” Sam let out a slow steady breath. Dean wasn’t upset with him, hadn’t failed him. In fact, Dean supported his decision, had anticipated it even. But then what…

“Then what you were saying before, about wanting…”

“I was trying to tell you that I was gonna ask…” Dean had set his beer down, now tapping his fingertips against each other nervously. “I was gonna see if Cass wants to keep hunting with me. If Cass wants to stay. With me. Be my… partner.” Dean barely choked out the last word, gaze firmly fixed downward at the table in front of him.

Sam parsed the words Dean had just said. His eyebrows rose almost involuntarily. _OH!_ Oh. This was big. Dean had effectively just come out to him. Sam didn’t fail to notice how ambiguous Dean’s exact words had been, but the intention was clear. Not that it was actually news to Sam that Dean wasn’t 100% heterosexual. And Sam would have to be comically out-of-touch to not notice the way Dean behaved around Cass. But now Dean was not only acknowledging that he wasn’t straight, he was basically gearing up to ask Cass to be his boyfriend. _Here I’ve been worried about letting Dean down, and all the while Dean has been gearing up for maybe one of the biggest admissions of his life_ , Sam chastised himself. _I need to be supportive_. Dean was looking at Sam expectantly.

“I’m sure he’ll say yes,” Sam offered. “But Dean, are you sure you’re ready? To tell him how you—to ask him, I mean?” Sam figured he should stay closer to Dean’s phrasing, keeping the conversation within Dean’s comfort zone.

Dean took the final sip of his beer and set the empty bottle down gently on the table. “I’m pushing 42, Sam. And I’ve known him for 12 years. I think I’ve waited long enough.” Despite the clear shakiness in Dean’s voice, Sam could also hear notes of relief. Dean’s eyes returned to their spot on the other side of the table.

“If you’re sure, then I say go for it. It’s...” _about time you said something to him_ , Sam almost said, before thinking better of it. “It’s gonna be okay, Dean. I’m sure he feels the s—he’ll say yes.”

Dean looked back at Sam. “Thank you, Sammy.” Sam could hear the tears Dean was holding in. He knew that that ‘thank you’ was for so much more than just Sam’s optimistic encouragement.

Sam smiled. Sam had nothing to worry about. He and Eileen could go whenever, wherever, and Dean would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t make any promises about when Chapter 3 will be out, but if I’m diligent, it will most likely be up later next week.


End file.
